


An Alternate Timeline

by ambersagen



Category: Back to the Future (Movies), Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Back to the Future Au, Eventual Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff, Human AU, Human!Castiel - Freeform, M/M, No Sam, No underage, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 04:19:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4814750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambersagen/pseuds/ambersagen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A supernatural Back to the Future AU.<br/>In which Dean is very disturbed to find himself in a love triangle of Oedipal proportions he is not interested in, because he is very much in love with his scientist, even though said scientist really really needs to let him talk about the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For my Bae and our movie nights of summers past. Sorry I can only write one fic a year for you. Thanks for putting up with my whining. 
> 
> Dean is 18 in this and in his senior year of High School. Cas is about 28.

This was so crazy. Only a few hours before, Dean had managed to wrench himself from sleep just to go running across town in the middle of the night to meet his best friend/mentor/whatever in the deserted parking lot of the Twin Pines Mall to do who knows what. Well, science probably. Castiel Novak PhD. was Dean’s best friend and the local nut-job. Not that Dean thought that, not at all. Cas could be…well, eccentric came to mind for sure, but his science was top notch and he was one of the few adults in town who actually gave a shit about Dean. He didn’t look down on Dean for his obsession with music, and he encouraged his love of machines and cars. Cas was awesome. Maybe a little too awesome.

 Dean was well aware of how it might look to people outside of their relationship who saw a young guy like him spending all his free time with an older man, especially one with Cas’s reputation. But there was nothing going on. Nothing at all. Cas loved his dog, Einstein. Cas loved science. He did not love Dean. Even if Dean may love him. Not that he ever told his friend as much to his face. It was weird, right? Daydreaming of being fucked by your older neighbor and mentor? And Dean did like girls. He had a whole torrid history with pretty much every girl anywhere near his age in his whole high school. But it never seemed to stick. And then there was Charlie. Funny, caring, and a red head to boot, Charlie promised to be everything Dean was looking for in a girl. Except she was weird too. She confessed to Dean one night after they had snuck some of his father’s cheap beer that maybe she wasn’t into dating so much because she spent too much time looking at guy’s sisters. And what is there to say to that other than ‘I may be in love with a man twice my age’?

Anyway, the point was that when Dean had dragged himself out of bed in the middle of the night a few hours ago to meet his best friend/ inappropriate crush/mentor in the parking lot of the local mall he had expected to be doing something that maybe at the most involved explosions. Science could get tricky sometimes, for reasons Cas had always been vague to explain.

He had been expecting to hide from the cops and maybe set some bushes on fire.

Time travel had never even crossed his mind.

“Do I know your mother?” Deanna Winchester asked him, peering inquiringly at him over a very large bowl of mashed potatoes set on a faded flower table cloth. “You look very familiar.”

Dean swallowed, glancing sideways at a very teenage Mary Winchester. Mary squinted back at him, eyes suspicious and contemplative, the same look she had given Dean on a number of unfortunate occasions, one of which had involved a broken window and a baseball Dean swore wasn’t the one he had just received for his birthday that week.

 Dean swallowed again. “Yeaaaah…I think you just might.”

Mrs. Campbell hmmmed in acknowledgement. Mary flicked open her silver pocket knife again, under the table where her parents couldn’t see but where the warning was clear enough to Dean. It had been the most terrifying experience of his life to wake up after presumably being run over by his own grandfather, only to find a fifties greaser version of his mother flicking a knife in his face and demanding to know if he was a peeping tom. Scarier even than the time she had caught him with some skin mags under his bed and he had been forced to show them to his mortified father.

“Uhh, well,” Dean coughed, folding his napkin and scooting back a bit in his chair. It scraped loudly on the tile. “Thank you for dinner. It was delicious but I really think I had better be getting home now. It’s late, my family will be worried.”

“It was our pleasure, young man,” Mrs. Campbell said as he awkwardly stood and made a none too graceful break for the door.

“What a nice young lifeguard,” he heard her say as he pulled the door firmly closed. He breathed a sigh of relief, gripping the porch rail in both hands and as he sagged against it.

What. The. Heck.

Nothing in his whole life could have prepared him for a younger version of his mother who was feisty, forward, and fucking terrifying. He wasn’t a peeping tom, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t seen a small bit of skin before his dad had fallen out of that damn tree…

He thumped his head against the porch beam, eyes screwed tightly closed as he tried to forget what he saw. He didn’t have time for an Oedipus complex. God. His seventh grade English teacher would have a field day with this. No thinking of boobs, Winchester. Think of flat chests, with lots of straight, thick muscle…broad shoulders…” his eyes flew open. Cas!

He pushed off the rail, jumping right over the porch steps and sprinting across the lawn. What the fuck was he doing, having dinner with his grandparents and future mom? He needed to get to Cas and get the hell out of here!

Lamenting his lack of wheels, he set off on a light jog as he made his way to the doctor’s house. He would tell Cas everything and the dork had better fix this. He didn’t want to live in the fifties. Half his good music hadn’t even come out yet!

Determined, he made it at a sprint all the way to the right block, at which point he tripped in surprise and landed flat on his face in the grass.

This place was huge!

Picking himself up he staggered up to the mansion door. Cas had said something once or twice about spending his inheritance on his inventions, but it was one thing to hear about how your friend sold his family estate to fund science and another to see the damn thing in person. Jesus. Was that lion head a door knocker?

Timidly, he reached out, lifting up the brass hoop and tapping it down a few times.

There was a crash from deep in the building, and a surprised shout. Dean waited as several more crashes signaled the rapid approach of someone before the door was thrown open with a bang.

Dean stared.

The man at the door was so like the Castiel he knew, but so _young_.

“Doc!” Dean exclaimed, snapping out of his daze. Was he drooling? He checked, wiping his at the corner his mouth nervously.

Cas was doing that head tilt thing, the weird contraption on his head swaying crazily to the side. “I think you have me confused with someone else,” he said, grabbing Dean’s sleeve and dragging him inside despite his statement. “Don’t tell me who it is, I need to test this out.”

Cas pulled him closer, fiddling at some wire with his free hand. “Alright, you…” he frowned, his face lacking many of the lines and crinkles it would come to have later in life. “Ah, you’re here for money. You want me to donate to the Young Coast Guards of America fund!”

“No, damn it, Cas,” Dean started, but Cas cut him off with a wave.

“Then you must be one of those campaigners for mayor Raphael. If I’ve told him once I’ve told him a thousand times. I will never endorse his campaign. I’m voting for Henrikson!”

“Cas, stop!” Dean shouted, grabbing the younger version of his friend by the arms, effectively stopping his manic hat adjustments. “Will you just listen to me for a second?”

Castiel stared at him in surprise, those blue eyes Dean knew so well so much larger in his younger face. There were only hints of the lines that would come to frame those eyes later in life, although Dean was glad the guy’s hair was as wild and wind tossed as ever.

“Please, Cas. You gotta listen to me. My name is Dean Winchester. I’m from the future. Future you sent me back in time and I need your help to get back to the year nineteen eighty-five.”

They stared at each other, Dean still grasping his younger friend’s arms although, wait, Cas was older than him just younger than Dean was used to, but hey, at least Dean was still taller.

Cas frowned, leaning back. “Excuse me,” he said coldly. “I’m very busy at the moment, although I don’t think any time is a good time to have some stranger mock my research.”

Dean blinked as Cas shook off his hands and marched back into the house.

“No,” he hurried after him. “No no no. Not mocking. You don’t understand.”

Cas whirled around to glare at him, the power in his stare sadly reduced by the crazy tilting cooking pot satellite thing on his head. “No you don’t understand. I’m not interested in whatever dare or prank brought  you here. Now good night. Please leave. I have work to do.”

“Its’s not a prank, I swear. You sent me here. The you from my time built the machine that you —he dreamed up when he slipped on the tile in the bathroom and knocked himself out. You sent me here and I really really need you to send me home, man,” he swallowed. “It’s been a very stressful day.”

Suddenly, the events of the last 24 hours hit him. He must have looked about as bad as he felt because he soon found himself sitting in a large armchair, a glass of water being pressed into his hands. He blinked, looking up at Cas, whose surprisingly young face looked down at him in concern. Shit. He’s the one who should be concerned. He didn’t even know if the Cas from his time was still alive. He had to warn him.

“Cas, listen. Before I go back I..there…there’s something I gotta tell you, man. About what happens when you invent the time machine.”

He’s cut off by a rather forceful palm slamming into his nose and mouth. With an indignant squawk of pain he fell back into the chair with Cas half on top of him.

“No! You mustn’t,” Cas all but screamed in his face before clearing his throat in embarrassment. “I mean, don’t. You can’t tell me anything about the future. You could disrupt the timeline. How can things come to pass authentically if we already know they will happen?”

Dean pulled his hand off, blinking away tears at the sting in his nose. “That’s the point! I don’t want those things to happen. Listen, on – you’re gonna—”

Cas tackled him again and they wrestled with each other until Cas accidentally smacked him in the nose again in his attempt to silence him.

Dean groaned as his nose began to pour blood. Sheepishly, Cas jumped back, raising his hands up in surrender as Dean stared accusingly at him, hands cupped around the mess of his face.

‘Sorry. I just,” Cas fumbled in his pocket before pulling out a handkerchief of all things and handing it to Dean. “You don’t understand the severity of interfering in the timeline.”

“So you believe me then?” Dean said, panting from their tussle.

Cas blinked, “I suppose I do. You do seem to be dressed in a very odd manner, using slang I am unfamiliar with, and I did have an unfortunate accident this morning. I don’t know why I would send you here, but I suppose future me had his reasons. But I must have warned you of the dangers of interacting with the natives of a timeline! If you were to tell someone about their future you could set off a chain of events that could lead to a completely alternate reality, one where significant wars never happened, where inventions were never made, or one that would prevent you from being born!”

“Uhh,” Dean said, articulately through the blood in his sinuses. “So, what you’re saying is that, if I happened to meet my parents, or uhh, interacted with anyone?”

“In an event changing way,” Cas supplied.

“Right. Like, if I happened to save my dad from being hit by a car, and because of that my mom never got the chance to nurse him back to health,” Dean swallowed as the implications dawned on him. “And because of that, they never fall in love and never get married.”

“Exactly,” Cas said. “They never meet, never fall in love and you would never be born. So you must be very careful not to interfere in anything from this timeline!”

“Uhm, Cas?” Dean said, meekly. “I think I’m I trouble.”

Cas’ face fell. ‘You didn’t.”

“I didn’t know!” Dean said, waving his hands in the air. “I was still trying to figure out what happened and then my dad was there and I followed him. Next thing I know my mom has a knife to my throat and then grandma is cooking me dinner.”

“That’s not good,” Cas began to pace, Dean nervously rising to follow him around the room. “Dean, that’s really not good. You might have disrupted the entire timeline,” he whirled on Dean, clutching his shoulders dramatically. Dean had to will down the urge to lean in and kiss him because now was not the time, damn it.

“What does that mean?” Dean asked, trying to remain calm in the face of Cas’ panic. “I mean, I get it, I talked to people and now things have changed. But how do we know which things, Cas?”

This seemed to perplex him and Cas stared at him unblinkingly for a few seconds. Patiently, Dean waited for Cas’ brain to finish figuring out what it needed to. Cas smiled.

“Do you have a family picture or driver’s license or anything like that?” he asked Dean.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean fumbled out his wallet. “I got both actually,” he pulled out the small, wrinkled photo of the road trip his family had taken when he was four and they decided to visit the Grand Canyon. One of the few things his family had ever done as a family that had actually gone well, and he barely remembered any of it.

He looked at the photo and gasped. “What the fuck,” he waved it around in a panic before Cas snatched it from him.

“Ah. Just as I suspected. The picture is fading out, just as your future as a family is fading.”

His finger traced a careful outline around the Winchesters where they were shown posed at the lip of the canyon edge. John was almost completely gone at this point, mostly vanishing from the head down.

“Fuck. I have to fix this. We gotta get them back together somehow before the future gets totally fucked!”

“We must,” Cas agreed grimly. “We can fix your family tomorrow before we send you back.”

“You can fix the machine that fast?” Dean asked, relieved.

There was an awkward silence.

“Fix?” Cas asked.

Dean groaned. “Jesus. Yeah, she ran out of fuel or something. It’s why I needed help before I knew I fucked everything up.”

Cas looked dubious. “I suppose I can fix it. It can’t be too hard, even if I haven’t technically invented the thing yet.”

“Here,” Dean scrabbled at his backpack. “I didn’t quite understand what you were talking about but I got the basics on tape,” he pulled out the camcorder. “Got a TV?”

“Fascinating,” Cas said, taking the camcorder from Dean as Dean began to dig around in the piles of electronics stacked in every corner of the room. He had been hanging with Cas long enough to know his system. Triumphantly he dragged out a practically new/old television set, taking the recorder from Cas before he could do anything stupid like record over the tape they needed. “Help me hook this baby up and I can show you what happened.”

“To have full movie filming capability in the palm of your hand,” Cas shook his head in amazement. “Tell me, Dean. Has mankind discovered cold fusion yet?”

“What, like perpetual energy?” Dean flopped down into the armchair, letting Cas fiddle with the tv settings. “Naw, but we have some other neat things. Household microwaves for one.”

H reached out, flipping on the tape, cutting off any further questions Cas might have had.

The scratchy quality sound of the homemade video trickled out of the speakers as Cas stared in utter fascination. On screen Cas of the future was doing his speech about new frontiers and Dean found himself looking away. He knew what came next, and he felt sick not knowing if Cas was ok or lying dead on the ground as he played around in the past. Suddenly the Cas in front of him stiffened, a small protest of a grunt catching Dean’s attention.

“What did I say?” Cas asked, incredulously. “One point twenty-one gigawatts?” Cas ran a hand through his hair, already wild from the hat and previous hair pulling. “One point twenty-one gigawatts! Impossible. The only thing that could generate that much power would be an explosion with the power of a lightning strike.”

“Wait, Cas,”Dean caught Cas’ sleeve, halting his almost painful looking tugs. “A lightning strike?”

“Yes, a bolt of lightning striking the proper conduit could be powerful enough to generate the one point twenty-one gigawatts of power we need, but building a device large enough to both attract and channel the power from the strike would take some time and you have already disrupted the flow of time drastically. We don’t have time to fix your problem and build a lightning rod while tracking down a powerful enough storm.”

Dean sighed in relief. “Cas. What if I already knew where lightning would strike?” he shook his friend’s shoulders. “Could you do it? Could you channel it?”

Cas blinked down at him, a faint blush on his neck, probably from all the shouting. “Uhm. Yes. Yes I could. But Dean,” he said as Dean released him. “How do you know where lightning will strike?”

“Duh, I come to you from the future! And I’m not as dumb as I look,” Dean said, grabbing the local paper off the table. As he had seen earlier, there was the clock tower on the front page. “Three days from now lightning will strike the clock tower, permanently busting it for the next thirty years and hopefully sending yours truly back to nineteen eighty-five.”

Cas stared at the article, then back up at Dean’s hopeful face. “I don’t think anyone would accuse you of being stupid, Dean. In fact, you seem to be incredibly quick thinker, able to respond rapidly to the most improbable situations,” he paused. “Although I would question your fashion sense. Is there something wrong with the ocean levels in your time?”

“Ugh,” Dean shrugged off his vest, using the movement to hide his blush. The dang thing had blood on it anyway from his nose bleed. “There. It’s off. Is everyone in the fifties a fashion critic or what?”


	2. Chapter 2

School seemed about the same as ever, even thirty years in the past. Dean brushed his sweaty hands nervously on the pressed cotton slacks Cas had found him last night. The two of them had discussed his options and had decided that the best course of action was to simply throw John Winchester back into the path of Mary Campbell and trust that whatever spark had originally gotten them together would still light.

To that purpose Dean and Cas were currently scanning the busy halls of Lawrence High School for any sign of John.

“Do you see him anywhere?” Cas asked, leaning casually and all too conspicuously against a locker. Dean hadn’t been sure it was a good idea to bring Cas along, but he had argued that as Dean was still only 18 and not even graduated in his own time that they shouldn’t take the chance of sending him off alone. They didn’t want him to get in trouble with the teachers.

A group of students ran by, their laughter raising to a heckling pitch as they smacked the books out of the arms of a boy further down the hall. Dean winced. “Yeah, I see him.”

John was studiously ignoring the bullies as he grabbed at his papers on the floor. Dean moved in, rushing to help him gather up his homework as Cas hung back and tried not to look like a creeper.

“Hey John,” Dean said with false cheer as he handed his father the papers. “Just the guy I was hoping to see.”

“What?” John said, staring up at him in confusion. “Oh it’s you again—”

“Yep it’s me! And I’m glad you remember me because I have someone you have got to meet.”

John staggered a bit as Dean threw an arm around his shoulder and steered him towards the locker of one Mary Campbell a few sections down. Marry and her friends had been hanging around, giggling about something or other for the last ten minutes to Dean’s immense relief.

“Yeah, John. There’s this girl who has just been dying to meet you and I thought I would hook you up.”

John gulped as Dean slid in easily between Mary’s friends.

“Hey there, Mary,” Dean said in a rush, pulling John in beside him. “Nice to see you again, have you met my friend John? I thought you might like to meet him because I think you both have a lot in common.”

Mary blinked as her friends giggled amongst themselves. “Dean. You go to school here too?” She stepped forward, pressing right into Dean’s space and purposefully ignoring John’s stuttered hello. “I hope this means we will be seeing more of you around campus,” she said bumping he shoe against Dean’s ankle. “I don’t think you mentioned where you lived.”

Dean’s mind was blanking, not expecting this conversation at all. “Uhh,” he said, intelligently as Mary smiled with all her teeth.

The bell rang.

“Oh,” Mary said, looking up in surprise. “I guess we had better get to class,” She stepped back, nodding to John. “Nice to meet you. I’ll see you later Dean.”

With that the girls moved off, leaving Dean blushing and John sighing.

“Thanks for trying,” John said, too preoccupied with watching Mary leave to remember that he didn’t actually know Dean beyond a two very weird encounters. “I don’t think she’s very interested in me though,” He drooped. “I gotta get going.”

Down the hall Mary and her friends pushed their way through the throng of students, brushing by Cas as they looked back at Dean and pulled together to whisper to each other.

“I told you. Isn’t he a dream boat? I love green eyes,” Mary said. She winked at her friends, who giggled. 

Cas stared, wide eyed as they passed. He shook his head as Dean slouched over. “I think we have a bigger problem than we originally anticipated.”

“What?” Dean asked, pulling Cas out of the way of a student who was desperately pelting toward class as the bell rang again.

“It would seem that your mother is amorously attached to you.”

“To me?” Dean yelped. “My mom has the hots for me?”

“I believe so,” Cas wrinkled his nose. “As do many of her friends, apparently.”

“Fuck, this is heavy, Cas,” Dean said, staring in horror at his mother’s retreating back.

“You keep using that word,” Cas said, turning to stare at him quizzically. “Heavy. Is there something wrong with the Earth’s gravitational pull in your time?”

Dean snorted, blinking at the change in topic. “Dude, no. It’s just an expression.”

 Cas hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose you should be flattered that you managed to entice so many ladies on first encounter.”

Dean made a face. “I’m not really…into girls,” he said, casting a shy glance at Cas. It was true, to a degree. He used to be into girls, but for the longest time now he was just….into Cas. Unfortunately, Cas didn’t seem to catch what he was implying. It was probably for the best. 1955 wasn’t likely a good time for guys to like guys.  “I don’t know what to do. She can’t like me, she has to fall in love with my dad.”

“What we need is some way for them to bond, some sort of social event would be easiest.”

“Gah,” Dean spun around in a circle, scanning the hallways as if the perfect date would somehow manifest itself.

“Dean,” Cas grabbed his shoulder, halting his panic. “”Look, there is a rhythmic ceremonial ritual coming up.”

“The Enchantment Under the Sea Dance?” Dean sighed. “That could work,” he droped down to sit on the stairs. “But we obviously need to set them up ourselves. Dad’s too much of a coward to ask her out, she had to do it their first date.”

“Not a likely occurrence with her being smitten with you now,” Cas agreed, sitting gingerly on the step beside Dean. “So we need to speak to your father, convince him to ask your mother to the dance, preferably in a way that removes you from the romantic picture altogether.”

Dean groaned, completely creeped out by the words ‘romantic picture’ in the same concept as a love triangle between him and his parents.

“Jesus Christ,” he dropped his head into his hands. A slight pressure touched his shoulder. Surprised, he glanced back up. Cas was awkwardly patting him.

“Don’t worry, Dean. I’m sure it will all work out.”

Dean sighed, feeling like a total jerk. “No, I’m sorry you had to get caught up in all this. Man, I’ve been dragging you into my family drama since even before I was born!”

Giving Dean a last friendly pat, Cas squared his shoulders. “I think we should retire to my home and formulate a plan,” Cas said, rising. “This is too important to just ‘wing it’.”

Dean stood, sighing. “Yeah, hell if I know how we’re gonna get my parents to hook up after this.”


	3. Chapter 3

“How is it that you ended up being my test pilot?” Cas asked. They had returned to his home earlier that day, where Dean had the pleasure of introducing Cas to his own style of home cooking. The guy barely owned a pan that wasn’t being used for some sort of chemical bioengineering. Cas had seemed awed by the sudden presence of food in his home that didn’t come from a can. Dean could have sworn that after Cas had tasted his lasagna that he was ready to hug the younger man.

Now they had retired to the living room, bantering back and forth as they tried to come up with ideas for how to get Dean’s parents together.

Dean watched Cas from his horizontal position on the couch. The doctor was staring up at the pictures of stern faced inventors hanging above his fireplace. “I can only assume that by nineteen eighty-five old age has caught up with me, preventing me from testing the machine myself,” he picked at a loose thread on his sleeve.

“What? Cas that’s not —you aren’t decrepit, dude,” Dean rolled over, pushing up onto his elbows. “We’re friends. You always show me your new inventions, let me help and stuff. Half the time I don’t think you trust anyone else with your experiments.”

“Friends?” Cas said, surprised.

“You let me use your house sometimes, for music or just for hanging out. And I get to hear about whatever you’re working on. We also like to take Einstein to the park.”

“Einstein?”

“Yeah, your dog,” Dean smiled. “He’s a great dog. I remember when you bought him. Man, I was so jealous. Tried to get my parents to buy me a puppy but they wouldn’t even let me have a fish,” Dean sighed.

Cas was quiet for a bit. Contemplative.

“I’m glad we’re friends, you know?” Dean said, tracing invisible patterns along the couch arm with his finger. “Home isn’t always so great for, thinking and stuff. My parents don’t really like the music or the whole tinkering thing. Too many explosions and loud noises.”

They were quiet after that, both lost in thought and the comfort of companionship. With food in his stomach and the excitement of the week still on his mind, Dean found himself drifting off to sleep.

Some indeterminate time later he roused just enough to feel Cas pull a blanket over his shoulders. He probably imagined hearing Cas say “I’m glad we’re friends too, Dean.”

\---

It was two more fruitless days of trying to convince Mary that John was worth a shot before Dean was about ready to throw in the towel. He had tried everything. First he tried talking John up, asking Mary all sorts of questions after class and making a point of telling her how ‘into that’ his friend John was. When that didn’t do anything except fuel her interest in Dean himself he switched tactics.

Getting John to ask Mary out was a disaster and Dean made Cas swear never to mention the resulting brawl ever again. His ego was about as bruised as his ass was from the literal ass whooping he had gotten from the very unhappy woman who owned the ice cream parlor they had accidently thrown down in.

Cas was no help either. Apparently before he met Dean he had basically given up all contact with human life. His advice consisted of various complements John might pay Mary based on her pleasing genetic makeup and strange, sideways complements at Dean when he waxed poetic on the aesthetically pleasing physical features of his family. Dean spent an evening blushing and tripping over his own feet as he made dinner for the three of them.

John just kind of went with the flow. It was a little sad, but Dean suspected that his father was, in his own way, just as isolated from people as Cas was. He didn’t really question Dean, Dean’s sudden appearance in his life, or Dean’s interest in his love affairs. He did make a weak attempt at questioning Cas’ involvement, but one look at Dean’s face ended that, and afterwards he just kind of jumped when they said jump.

Anyway, by the time they were down to one day left before the storm Dean had determined to bring out the big guns. A change of plan of the largest proportions. If Mary wanted a date with Dean he would just have to make that work.

The plan was simple. That morning Dean waited until the bell had rung before slipping a note into John’s locker. The note told John to meet him in the parking lot after school got out. Dean spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying old timey soda flavors while the cafe employees eyed him but refrained from calling the truancy office, or whatever people in the fifties did about teenagers who might be skipping school. Dean liked to think that it was his manly good looks that made them realize that he was plenty mature enough to have graduated. The fact that Cas sat with him for most of the day, working over notes and calculations while occasionally asking Dean questions about the DeLorean probably helped too.

When the clock tower struck three Dean left Cas to it, sliding out of the booth they had commandeered and trying to seem casual when he reached out to ruffle Cas’ hair goodbye. By the way Cas blinked and smiled up at him he figured he got away with passing it off as just a friendly farewell.

John was already waiting for him when he got there. Playing clumsily with a swiss army knife and trying to look cool as the rest of the students passed by without a second glance.

Dean sighed and wondered if he could reasonably get mad at his dad for embarrassing him if he wasn’t even born yet. Just another thing to tell his future therapist. Or not.

“Hey,” he said, leaning in next to John.

“Hey Dean,” he said, fumbling the catch on the knife and almost dropping it on the ground. “What’s up?”

Dean waited a moment, nodding at a group of students that passed loudly in front of them. “Ok. Here’s the plan. I’m going to ask Mo—Mary to the, uh, ‘Under the Sea’ dance.”

John sagged. “I don’t see how that’s going to help.”

“No, see, I’m going to take her to the dance and then I’m going to dump her there,” he leaned in, eye to eye with John, who looked faint at the thought. “Hey, we are gonna make this happen. She won’t want to date a jerk like me, and you can show her how awesome you are when you swoop in to comfort her.”

“Excuse me,” a voice interrupted from behind them.

Startled, they both jumped, clutching each other in guilty shock. It was Mary, flushing red and hands fidgeting around the books she had clutched to her chest. “Uhh,” she cleared her throat. “Is this why you kept asking me about John?” she asked Dean, slightly accusingly. “I didn’t think, I mean. You both seemed so,” she made an unhappy waving gesture. “So manly.”

“What?” they said in unison, staring at her in confusion.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she said quickly, still looking upset. “I just, oh Dean. I wish you hadn’t used me like that,” she bit her lip, eyes flicking to John and looking almost regretful.

Realization hit John first as he jerked himself out of Dean’s space. “Jesus, no! You got this all wrong, Mary. I’m not like, I’m not one of _those guys_.”

Dean’s stomach gave a lurch at the embarrassed and disgusted look on John’s face as he realized what they meant.

“Oh,” he leaned back, giving John some space. “No, he’s right. It’s not like…that.” He bit his lip, looking between the two of them as they refused to make eye contact with each other. They both looked so different from what they would become, and yet, there were all the signs. The distaste on John’s face, Mary’s initial reflex to be loving and supportive crushed by her unwillingness to get involved. He may never have an opportunity like this again.

“You’re right though,” he ploughed on, spur of the moment taking hold of his sanity. “Partially. I am one. One of those. Just, not about John. I uh, I have someone else.”

For a moment nobody said anything. Dean held his breath, willing himself not to look at the ground as he saw the wheels turning in his parent’s heads. There was a nasty moment when it obviously clicked for John, and some ugly look crossed his face, but it was interrupted by Mary.

“If you aren’t interested in John, they why are you hanging around him so much?”

John looked like he would have liked to ask the same question, but in much less polite terms, so Dean forced it out. “I was actually trying to help him find a girl. One, specific girl,” he made a significant face at John, who was quick to catch on that he was being thrown under the bus. “See, John’s been trying to ask this special girl to the Enchantment Under the Sea dance, but he has been too shy to just, ask right out, you know?”

“Who was he trying to ask out?” Mary demanded, face pinched. Dean almost grinned, but he was feeling too wring out. Maybe he still had a chance at getting born after all.

“You,” John said, surprising them all. “I was trying to ask you to the dance.”

“You like me?” Mary said, almost shyly. Dean held his breath as John nodded enthusiastically. Before he could say anything Mary had jumped forward, smashing their mouths together in what looked like a pretty painful attempt at sucking his face off. Dean squeaked in surprise, spinning around to shield his eyes. He could feel his ears burning. Damn his parents and their lies! Chaste high school lovers his ass!

Eventually the wet smacking sounds subsided and someone tapped Dean’s shoulder.

“I think I owe you an apology,” Mary said, grinning. “I thought, well. I thought you liked John and I was pissed because I had planned to ask him to the dance.”

“You were going to ask him?” Dean mentally smacked himself. He had assumed that she had asked John right after his grandfather had run him over. He never thought she could still have asked John out on her own!

“Well, I knew John was too shy to ask me himself. I didn’t think anyone would try to help him out.”

Dean glanced at John, who was staring at his shoes, looking kind of debauched. He should have known. All this time he thought Mary’s crush on him was the problem, when in reality he was just cock blocking his own birth.

“Well,” he said weakly, “I’m glad it all worked out. I’m happy for you both.”

Mary beamed, then gave John a none too gentle nudge with her elbow. He coughed. “Yeah, thanks I guess. “I’m grateful, even if you are one of those guys. You’re pretty cool, I guess.”

Dean tried to smile. He wasn’t sure he succeeded. John took a step back, tugging meaningfully on Mary’s sleeve.

“I’ll see you later, Dean,” she said. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

“Yeah, see you,” he waved halfheartedly at them as they walked off together.

Well. That was one problem fixed. Dean pulled out the old photo of his family, all fixed. There was his gape toothed smile, his mother and father brushing each other in a reserved hug. The only photo he had of his father smiling. He put the picture away, trying to ignore the empty ache in his gut. This was what he wanted, a return to normal.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed, looking up at the sky. Tomorrow was the day, but for now there were only a few puffy clouds in the sky.

He walked slowly across the mostly empty parking lot as he stared up. The clock tower loomed ominously out against the skyline. A car pulled into the shoulder by the crosswalk in front of him. Dean shaded his eyes against the glare of the sun as the window rolled down and Cas stuck his head out of the driver’s side.

“Dean,” he waved as Dean approached. “Did your father agree to the plan?”

Dean moved around the car to slide into the passenger seat. “Better. My mom got sick of waiting for us to get our act together. She asked him out herself.” He pulled out the photo, flicking it easily at Cas, who fumbled the catch but looked ecstatic at the restoration of the image.

“This is good news. Now all we need to do is get the energy transferal equipment set up and wait.”

“Yeah,” Dean sank down in his seat as Cas pulled out into traffic. Just one more day and he would be back in 1985. Back in school, back at home with the same old mom and dad. Back to wishing he could be it for Cas, knowing he was nothing more than a friend, a child trailing after him worshipfully.

He closed his eyes, trying not to think about it. “Cas,” he said, voice rough as he tilted his head towards his friend. He opened his eyes just enough to make out the familiar messy head and lined face.

“Hmm?” Cas replied, both hands on the wheel and eyes on the road.

“I know I told you that I was sent here, that you sent me here.”

“Dean,” Cas said sharply, giving him a warning look. “If this is about my future I told you, I don’t want to hear it.”

Dean closed his eyes again. “It’s important though. That night—”

The car jerked suddenly, sending Dean flailing as Cas slammed on the breaks.

“We just fixed a major disturbance in the timeline and you keep trying to tell me things,” he exclaimed in exasperation. “Dean!” he leaned over to where Dean had been clutching the chair, heart racing from the abrupt stop.

“Dean,” he said again, softer this time as he reached out to cup Dean’s neck, hand resting comfortably in the dip between throat and shoulder. “Whatever you fear has already happened, must happen if we are to send you back to your proper time. You will need to wait until you have safely returned to your time to work this out. I’m sure the me from the future looks forward to your berating for whatever mistake it was that happened that night. Be patient.”

Dean wanted to shake him, to scream and rail and knock that stupid idea for time travel right out of Cas’ brilliant and beloved head. But he didn’t. Cas wouldn’t listen, and what was Dean to him but a mildly entertaining promise of a successful future? He certainly wasn’t what he wanted to be, but just maybe as a friend he could still save Cas.

“Sorry,” he said, “Do you have everything you need to set up at the clock tower tomorrow?”

With a sigh Cas sat back and Dean barely stopped himself from chasing the warmth of his hand as it moved away.

“No, we need to grab a few supplies before we can even begin to set up.”

“Ok. Give me a list and we’ll get it done.”


	4. Chapter 4

They spent the night in Cas’ work shed, the one building on the mansion’s lot that would stay with him over the years to come. Dean kept sneaking glances at Cas, trying to commit his younger face to memory. Once or twice he thought he caught Cas looking back at him, but it probably had more to do with making sure he wasn’t going to vanish than with romantic thoughts.

Dawn was just breaking when they put the finishing touches on their work.

“The trickiest part will be attaching the cord to the clock tower itself,” Cas said, a yawn cracking through his voice. “If it all goes to plan I will be able to hook the two cables up to the rod on tip of the tower, which will channel the bolt onto the two rods which will straddle the street. You will then only have to get the car up to the terminal speed of eighty-five mph and catch the rod on the wire at exactly the same time as the power hits the cables.” He yawned again, releasing the toy car he had been winding up onto the model road of the city he claimed to have left over from when he thought he could build a self-sustaining solar powered town center.

The car took off with a whir, right into the little replica of wires where it promptly caught fire and fell off the table.

Dean dropped his head onto the table with a tired thunk as Cas quickly threw a cup of tea on the smoldering toy.

“…That shouldn’t happen to you.” Cas said guiltily.

“I hope not, Doc. I just went to a while lot of trouble to make sure that I have a future. I would hate to see it go up in smoke.”

Cas cleared his throat. “I suppose I should thank you before you go. Knowing that I have such a future ahead of me, to know that this will all be worth it. Well, that means the world to me, Dean.”

Dean swallowed, throat tight. “Cas…”

“No, please. You have been a good friend to me these last few days. I had forgotten what it was like, why I do what I do. I want to help people, Dean. I want to see the fantastic future and that humanity ahead of it.”

Dean clenched his fists, bringing a hand down to press lightly against the letter he had hidden in his jacket. “You will, Cas. I promise you will see that future.”

Cas beamed. “I can barely wait. My only hope is that it will not feel like too long before you join me again.”

Dean smiled, trying to swallow down the tightness in his throat. “Let’s get me out of here before you start getting mushy about me being gone, alright?”

Cas cleared his throat. “Right. Well. Onward then. We have a lot to do and very little time to do it.”

\---

 “You gotta be joking,” Dean groaned, shuffling in place as the small line ahead of them went exactly fucking nowhere because the employees at city hall were secretly snail people or something. Yep. That was the only explanation for why he and Cas had been waiting in line for an hour just to get some sort of weather experiment permit thing.

“This is no joking matter,” Cas said grimly. “If we don’t have the proper paperwork this experiment is doomed. Do you really think we can just get away with setting up lightning rods all over town square without proper documentation? And how are we supposed to get on the clock tower without authorization, break down the door?”

“We could,” Dean said, considering. “It would be pretty badass,” he winked at Cas, who frowned. “It would be cooler than waiting in line all day.”

Cas smacked him lightly upside the head with his forms. “So attempting lightning powered time travel isn’t ‘badass’ enough for you?”

Dean laughed. “Well, when you put it that way.”

A desk opened up at the far end of the line and Cas headed over to greet the employee with a smile. Dean hung back, nervously fiddling with the letter in his pocket. He had one last chance at this. Cas wouldn’t listen to him, and coward that he was he didn’t want to ruin his last day with Cas. So he had written down what he needed to tell Cas, a warning about the gunmen, but also…

He took a deep breath and followed Cas, sliding in beside him and slipping the note into his coat pocked while Cas got his papers authorized. The Cas of his time would never know about his feelings. Hell, he may never even get to see the older version of Cas alive again. He just didn’t know. He could never tell him about all the stupid feelings he had for him anyway. It was wrong, how much in love he was. Their timelines were just devastatingly off. This Cas could know. When this was all over, at least someone would know and understand what Dean felt.

He was so tired, but the prospect of closure to this wild ride was not the relief he had hoped it would be.

Permit acquired, Dean and Cas made their way back to the shed, where they spent a sweaty afternoon moving power cords and beams before heading out to set up the conducting rods. The air was still, a promise of the storm to come.

By the time the first roll of thunder sounded in the distance they were as ready as they would ever be.

“This is it,” Cas said, eyes up as the clouds rolled in. “When I signal you will only have to hit the rod at the right speed. You’ll be home before you know it.” He gave Dean a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Suddenly, he stepped forward, pulling a surprised Dean firmly to his chest in a hug. “Take care of yourself, Dean.”

Dean pressed his face into the crook of Cas’ neck. “I’ll see you in a couple of decades,” he joked, voice rough. Cas squeezed him tighter in response.

Dean pulled away, clearing his throat and pretending his eyes weren’t wet. “Got your radio?” he asked, pulling his out for a test.

“Yes,” Cas replied. “In about ten minutes the lightning will strike…” he tapered off, frowning as he pulled out his radio and reached back into his pocket. “What in the world?”

Dean’s heart fell as Cas pulled out the letter, face shifting from confusion to recognition and anger.

“Dean,” he said, holding up the now crumpled envelope, clearly addressed ‘To Cas’. “Did you write me this?”

“Yes,” Dean didn’t look at him as he answered. “You need to know what happens.”

“Dean no!” Cas yelled, grabbing the letter in both hands. “I have told you time and time again! I must not know about the future! The timeline—”

“Screw the timeline, Cas. I don’t care about that! I care about you.”

It was too late. Cas had already torn into the letter. He had it ripped to pieces before Dean could stop him.

With a shocked cry, Dean reached forward, trying to gather the papers, but at that moment a strong gust of wind hit them, followed by a close flash of lightning. Dean and Cas jumped in surprise, falling as they grabbed at each other and landing to the side of the car. They sat gasping as debris hit them and the deafening boom of thunder was covered by the crack of snapping wood.

With a shout of dismay, Cas pointed. A branch had been ripped from a nearby tree and had fallen directly onto the first extension cord, breaking the connection to the tower.

“Fuck,” Dean yelled as the rain started to come down in earnest.

“Get in the car,” Cas ordered. “Wait for my signal. I’ll get the power reattached.”

“Cas, no. It’s too dangerous!” Dean said, alarmed. But Cas had already taken off, freeing the cord from the fallen branch. Dean swore and with a frustrated slap to the hood of the car threw himself into the driver’s seat. Meanwhile, Cas had begun to climb the ladder that they had secured to the tower for easy access. Rapidly he climbed, slipping only once or twice as the rungs became slicked with rain. With minutes to spare Cas pulled himself over the ledge, groping blindly for the other cord. Cold rubber hit his hand, the cord blowing back and forth in the wind as Cas jammed the plugs together.

 “Now Dean!” he shouted into the radio, and he heard the screech of tires on asphalt as Dean floored it. But, the cord was strangely lax in his hands. Glairing against the storm he searched for the cause. He felt his knees go weak as he saw the second cord too, lay disconnected at the end of the branch.

It had been his carelessness that had gotten Dean into this time travel mess to begin with, and he would be damned if he let him down again. There was nothing for it.

He jumped, one hand barely skimming the ladder as he swung down. He hit the pavement hard, rolling on the wet grass before staggering to his feet.

He reached up, knowing as soon as he saw the flash of lightning that he would be able to attach the cords just in time—but then he was being pulled back, an arm snaking in from behind to pull him away from the violent flash of power that was supposed to send Dean back to the future!

“No!” the word seemed ripped from his throat as he struggled free of the embrace that had held him back from fixing this. He jerked around, the hands almost pulling off his coat before letting go and raising palm up in surrender. Thunder rumbled over head as the first splashes of rain hit Castiel’s face.

The low glow of streetlights placed too far apart from each other illuminated the pair as they stood, facing each other as the skies opened fully down on them.

It was Dean, standing in the rain, hair almost black against his head as he was drenched from above.

“Dean?” Cas said, voice shaking almost as much as his body from the adrenaline. He didn’t understand. “Why are you still here?”

“You tore up the letter,” Dean said, as if that explained everything. “I just—there I was, sitting in the DeLorean, ready to go back and everything, but you had torn up the letter.”

He reached into his vest and pulled out a photograph. Cas recognized the background of canyon and sky that was the family photo Dean had brought from the future. Wordlessly he handed it to Cas. It was blank.

“I don’t understand,” Cas said, voice shaking.

“You wouldn’t let me tell you what happens, but the letter was more than just secrets about the future. I love you,” he stepped closer as he talked, eyes bright and breath lightly fogging up the air between them. “There’s nothing for me in the future without you and you are so stubborn. You wouldn’t read the goddamned letter,” Cas’ eyes fluttered shut for a moment as Dean reached out to cup his face, running his thumb along the older man’s jaw. “I don’t know if you want this, but I realized something when I was sitting in that damned car, foot on the gas and ready to go. I need you alive Cas. I need your crazy ideas and that crazy excited face you make when you come up with something brilliant. You’re the only person who ever gave a shit about me for my own sake. But you were so determined to stick to the plan, walk the path the timeline forced on you.”

Dean leaned in, slowly. Giving Cas time to make the choice. And Cas did, sighing out happily as he pressed his lips to Dean’s in a soft, somewhat chill kiss.

“You wouldn’t change anything to help yourself, Cas. So I realized I would have to stick around to change the future for you. If that’s ok.”

Cas laughed, loudly in the empty street as the rain let up to a slight drizzle. “It’s a little late to be asking me that, Dean,” he said, leaning in to press another kiss to the corner of his lips. It was just as he had thought it would be, just as he had been daydreaming about all week. “But at this point I would have to keep you, timeline be damned.” And Dean laughed, sparks flying from the wires still strung up around them, the light flickering across his face beautifully as he took Cas in his arms and spun them both around.

“I guess I’m going back to the future the natural way,” Dean said, breathlessly when they spun to a stop.

“I guess so,” Cas murmured against Dean’s ear as they began the slow walk back to his car. “How do you feel about getting a dog?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hello. I am a lonely person.  
> ambersagen.tumblr.com


End file.
